


Scavengers

by Trajecks



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Birdwatching, Gen, Minor Animal Gore, Post-Civil War, Wakanda, made-up-bird-from-a-made-up-country
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8368567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trajecks/pseuds/Trajecks
Summary: “You’re looking for a bird?”  A bird.Urgh.Sam nods even though Barnes is basic AF.—Sam goes goes bird-watching in Wakanda. Bucky tags along.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not now, nor have I ever participated in bird watching. I do like vultures.

Sam enjoys bird-watching.

It’s not a coincidence. He wasn’t some hard-core-bird-nerd who lucked out with his designation. It was just a sort of natural progression of interacting with wings. You have enough conversations about wing-design and wingspan and you get curious about the inspiration.

It’s not an obsession. It’s a hobby. It’s almost just field research. Really. 

He’s had other hobbies, hobbies are healthy. Gives him something to focus on instead of turning into a brooding-smile-vortex with no perspective like _some people_.

Back in DC he played futsal once a week with some friends from the VA. Before that he took a string of community college cooking classes. Before that there was a brief interest in stamps that he’d mentioned to Riley once and regretted doing so forever after. 

Riley had been into it too. The bird-watching. He made his own Big-Wing-Bingo card and resented the shit out of the Swedish dude who reblogged it and beat him. Galapagos cruising mother fucker.

Personally, Sam likes hammerkops. He saw one on his last tour. They build huge nests, big enough to hold a human. Not that Sam would test that but it blows his mind to think about.

After Riley died someone told him that they herald death but that’s bullshit. People say that about a lot of birds.

He hasn’t exactly been keeping up with his hobby since the accords. He and Steve have been back in Wakanda for a month now. Natasha went dark for the better part of a year and came back with some files from the Red Room to help break Barnes’ conditioning.

Steve was so excited. It made Sam feel kind of sick. They really should have had that talk about what to expect.

He hasn’t had a chance yet - Steve’s Bucky magnet went into overdrive as soon as they arrived. They thawed Barnes out over the first two weeks, for which Sam is grateful, there is only so patient a man can be when his friend keeps ditching him to stare at a cryo-freezer. Sam strongly suspects Steve of Skype calling the Wakandan facility to stare at him whilst they were abroad. Now Steve just ditches him to watch Barnes test out his new arm, courtesy of T’Challa. 

At Sam’s estimate Barnes recognizes Steve about 80% of the time and it’s not always a good thing. He gets angry or scared a lot. 

Weirdly, he always seems to know Sam, at least he knows to be a sassy little prick to Sam. 

It’s very touching.

It makes Steve jealous and squirrely because Steve is clearly writing how-to guide on unhealthy relationships.

The point is there are real reasons for them to be here. Real things for him to be devoting his thoughts to. And he does.

But.

Well.

The thing is.

…

Wakanda has a vulture.

A really, really big one.

Sam knows ‘really big’ is not the be-all-and-end-all of birding.

He spent a lot of their Barnes’ hunting year documenting pigeons by region. Those things are incredible, ridiculously smart. Plus, Sam likes their ‘coo’.

Steve had gone back and forth between totally getting it, waxing poetic about homing pigeons; and being a big old New Yorker cliché and basically thinking Sam was insane for seeking out sky rats. Sam didn’t care, he was happy with the pigeons.

But.

Well.

He’s already here…

And it’s a _vulture_.

It would be a waste not to at least try.

The head of security, Bosede, confirmed that there were some on in the compound. He gave Sam a map, pointed out clearings and trails. He was very helpful.

So it is probably entirely Sam’s fault that he so drastically misinterprets the scale of the compound.

An hour into his trek Sam hasn’t seen any of the land marks he should have. Behind him he can still catch glimpses of the facility so he’s not lost; but the first landmark he was meant to pass is an old outpost and he hasn’t seen shit.

Not that it’s a bad walk. The jungle is beautiful but the longer he walks the more it feels like a maze.

There are shafts of sunlight beaming through gaps in the canopy and Sam can see easily enough; but the trees are growing denser the further he walks There’s no way to gauge what’s ahead. Add to that the noise. Insects he’d rather not think about are buzzing in all directions, their sounds blending together into a din. Then there’s the bird calls; he had stopped to listen to the first few, trying to gauge direction, but the arching, twisting jungle undergrowth seems to distort the sound and the task proved futile.

Sam’s skin feels like it’s steaming but it’s not unpleasant. He’s abstractly excited to come home and rest after his adventure, a sleep well earned. 

Abruptly, the outpost comes into view. It’s a basic tin structure on four posts, only 5 or so meters tall. He can see why it’s abandoned; the jungle was probably thinned out when it was erected but now there’s no way a guard could see anything through the undergrowth.

He walks over and stands underneath it to cool down in the shade and study his map. The journey so far took longer than he’d hoped but there isn’t really anything to rush back for and it’s a nice walk. He stares at the next landmark, a waterfall, it’s maybe two hours North West of the outpost. He can stop there to eat and-

“What are you doing?” asks a sneaky mother fucker who is really asking to get punched.

Sam is a rock and super hero and does not jump.

Barnes is hanging upside-down over the edge of the outpost so his smirk looks like a grimace, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” he says which is _definitely_ a lie.

“You didn’t,” lies Sam “I was just - what are you doing here?”

Barnes’ head disappears and Sam wonders if he’s just going to leave but instead he makes a wildly unnecessary leap down to ground level because he’s a show-off who needs to get right with himself and stop trying to intimidate Sam.

It’s not even working.

Barnes ignores the question and sidles right up to Sam and his map.

“Are you lost?” he asks.

“No I’m charting my movements.” says Sam, shaking the map to emphasize how well oriented he is.

Barnes’ eyebrows go up, “And where is it your movements are taking you?”

Sam sighs, “Birding.” 

Barnes’ expression goes squiggly.

Urgh.

Sam folds his map up and shoves it into his unzipped duffel bag. He pulls his phone from the pocket of his parka and searches a picture of the vulture to show Barnes. He has one saved in his pictures for his own reference but he instinctively knows that information will lead to more smirking.

Barnes steps closer and looks curiously at the screen.

“You’re looking for a bird?”

_A bird_. 

Urgh. 

Sam nods even though Barnes is basic AF.

Barnes continues to examine the picture, leaning way further into Sam’s space than assassins are allowed to go. He lets out a low whistle, “pretty big bird, you think you can take it?”

Sam recoils “Man -I’m not going to- I won’t be getting close enough to find out, you just _look_ at them.”

Barnes nods, face still squiggly, “What if it, you know?” Barnes claws at the air to indicate vicious bird death.

“It’s a scavenger, it doesn’t want to eat me.”

“It might if you run into the Wakandan Green-Point Spider first and it leaves you for dead.”

Sam has no idea if he’s serious. This is the problem with all these connect-the-dots biography people. It’s totally possible that Barnes knows venomous spiders and still think Sam is looking for a ‘pretty big bird’.

“I’m not going out of the compound, I have all my hook-ups,” he waves his left wrist where his communicator is fastened, “This place is owned by the king of Wakanda, if I go down there’ll be an alarm going in seconds.”

Barnes hums contemplatively and tilts his head, “Alarms won’t be fast enough against one of the big cats.”

This guy has got to be fucking with him.

“I can look after myself.” says Sam, pulling the strap on his rifle for emphasis.

Barnes eyebrows go way up, “You’re going to shoot the big cat?”

“No I’m not going to-“ Sam stops and takes a calming breath, “I’m not going to shoot anything, I’m just going to have a little look around, see if I can see my vulture. Can you let me do that Barnes?”

Barnes cocks his head, generously considering respecting Sam’s wishes. Sam demonstrates similar generosity by not throwing anything at Barnes’ head.

“I wanna see the bird.”

Yeah that's not happening.

Barnes keeps talking before Sam can lay out the _many reasons_ that isn’t happening.

“I can find it faster than you, I don’t need to...chart my movements.”

“I can read a map.”

“I don’t need one. There will be tracks.”

“Vulture tracks.” 

Barnes rolls his eyes and gives Sam a flat look, “Dying animal tracks, you know, scavenger chow.”

Why does he sound so Brooklyn when he says that? What the hell did they eat during the depression?

Barnes keeps looking at him like he’s got all day and Sam knows he’s beat.

“Fine, you can come. Just try not to be an asshole.” He says lamely.

“Sure,” Barnes says easily, but his expression implies he won’t be trying very hard.

—

Barnes spends the first half an hour out of sight before Sam realizes he’s _in the trees_ and has to call him down and remind him that birds are not accustomed to people swinging through their nests.

“Your bird lives in these trees?” Barnes asks looking skeptically at the dense forest canopy.

“No,” says Sam, “but there are other birds that do and if I can’t find the vulture I wouldn’t mind seeing them or at the very least not actively destroying their homes.”

Barnes actually looks affronted, “I didn’t destroy any nests, I’m careful. Did you see branches falling?”

Sam hasn’t. That doesn’t mean anything though, Barnes is exactly the kind of guy who would test the hammerkop-nest-thing. Sniper in a bird’s nest indeed.

Regardless of his protests, Barnes doesn’t go back into the trees and instead walks along a few feet in front of Sam. Sunlight bounces off the exposed metal of his left arm as it shifts with his movement. He’s wearing lightweight cargo pants and a wife-beater; both black. It’s not tactical gear from before but Sam thinks he might be trying to get closer to that aesthetic without Steve noticing. 

Sam should probably talk to Steve about that. It doesn’t seem to take much to convince Steve that Barnes is regressing and Barnes has definitely noticed.

“Does Steve know you’re out here?” he asks.

Barnes looks over his shoulder but keeps walking, “He’s in the city, the king needed him to sign some asylum stuff.” 

Oh, that. 

Technically, the United States hasn’t leveled any charges against Steve. The UN is in a weird grey zone where the accords say that he’s a war criminal harboring a terrorist but they really don’t seem to want to do anything about it, not when new supers are showing up so often these days. Besides, that would implicate Wakanda in an international criminal case for harboring him.

Stark is probably doing something to way-lay that. He and Steve might be in troubled waters but Sam’s pretty sure he’s not going to endanger international peace treaties over Steve.

Natasha told them she’s only had one email from Stark since she fled and all it said was “You didn’t have to run.”

All other contact has been met with an uncomfortably cheerful out of office. Sam would know. He’s gotten a few of them.

Col. Rhodes does reply. Nothing huge, just urges Sam and the rest of them to turn themselves in, offering to personally ensure things don’t get out of hand. As if they hadn’t already.

He seems nice, reasonable.

Not like a person who Sam helped cripple at all.

Anyway.

It’s kind of looming over Sam that he isn’t sure if he’s allowed back in the States anymore. Steve has been back but Steve’s pretty hard to detain without his consent, Sam’s not so sure he’d get the same free pass. 

It’s a gut punch. He has family and a house and a favorite coffee place.  
He hasn’t worked out how to bring it up with Steve without the words “You don’t understand because everyone from your home is gone.” so he hasn’t broached the subject at all.

They find the waterfall around 3 in the afternoon. It’s not a big current but the drop-off is huge. Sam can only just make out the murky, green lake at the bottom. About halfway down the water hits a rock that juts out from the cliff and splits into two currents. He can’t tell if they merge again before the lake. 

It’s a breathtaking view and not for the first-time Sam is grateful that he’s never been afraid of heights. 

Barnes isn’t either if the way he’s teetering forward is any indication. His eyes are locked on the ground. Super soldier eyes; he can probably see what happens to the currents. “I’m not going to fall.” says Barnes, misreading Sam’s attention, “and even if I- I think I’d be okay.”

“I think you’d crack your head open on that rock.” says Sam.

Sam hadn’t really noticed how terrifyingly blank Barnes’ had been until the expression evaporates and he glares up at Sam, “I would grab hold of that rock,” he says, wiggling the fingers of his metal hand. Sam can practically hear the silent ‘Duh’.

Sam could argue that, but he doesn’t want to bait him into proving it and have to explain to Steve and HRH the King of Wakanda how he dared Barnes into ripping off another piece of priceless tech.

“Come eat.” he says instead, stepping back from the edge and walking back to where he’s left his duffel bag on the ground. Sam isn’t afraid of falling off the edge but like hell he’s risking his sandwiches.  
Barnes looks down the cliff face one more time before stepping away and following without a word.

Sam isn’t sure how this will go. He had the chef at the facility make up some sandwiches but not like, super solider quantity sandwiches. Steve has had to stop having serious meetings over meals because stuffing his face detracts from the Captain America clout in a big way.

He thinks Barnes will be just as ravenous but he only takes a few bites of one before wrapping up the rest of it and finding space for it in the pockets of his cargo pants. Sam isn’t sure if that’s a 1930’s portion thing or a WW2 rationing thing or a Winter Soldier starvation thing but it’s messed up. He feels sort of bad for sticking the guy with boring BLT and keeping the obviously superior, Camembert, blackberries and bacon one for himself but really, those berries would never have survived pockets. They’d get all over the insides and Barnes seems like the kind of guy who doesn’t wash his darks until they smell. 

Assuming Barnes has done laundry before. Hydra laundry? Surely those uniforms are dry-clean only.

“There’s more in the bag.” Sam tells him, wisely not mentioning the laundry thing, “I was going to save some for the trip back but you can- eat what you want man, you’ll get tired otherwise.”

“I won’t.” says Barnes automatically, but after a moment he pulls the duffel over to the rock he’s half sat against and digs out a plain turkey, lettuce and mayo and unwrapping it. He keeps the BLT in his pocket.

“Don’t worry about the way back, we won’t need food.” 

Sam nods like he gets what that means. Barnes’ looks up from his sandwich and makes direct eye contact with Sam, it’s startling.

“Because I’m going to eat you.” He says.

In the distance a bird is singing and it needs to shut the fuck up because-

Barnes eyes are alive with mirth and his mouth is doing that tick thing again.

“Fuck you.” Says Sam.

Barnes isn’t laughing but his chest is puffing in a weird way that makes Sam think he’s keeping it down.

“What, I though you liked that sort of thing? Your bird sure does-“

“My _vulture_ isn’t cannibal.” says Sam hotly.

“Isn’t it?”

Sam has no earthly idea but there is no way this fucker doesn’t either. Urgh.

Barnes does the huffy chest thing again and looks away, having gotten his answer apparently, “We should get moving, it’ll be dark sooner than you think.”

Sam agrees and gathers up their trash, showing it back into the duffel. The literal King invited them to this country. He’s not going to litter.

When he’s satisfied with the clean up job he stands up and realizes Barnes has moved to the edge of the cliff face once more. He’s staring down again but his brow is scrunched like he’s confused.

“I could grab it.” he says, sounding oddly childish, “I would just grab the rock.”

“Yeah, that could work,” Sam allows, slowly, “let’s not find out huh? Least not when I don’t have my wings to catch your sorry base-jumping ass.”

Barnes looks badly startled by that and steps back abruptly.

Sam doesn’t know what this is but the guy looks haunted, pale as the ghost Shield thought he was. 

“Right,” says Barnes after a few beats, voice rough but less vulnerable than before, “let’s go find your bird.”

He moves away from the waterfall and the edge and whatever got him so spooked and heads back into the jungle without checking if Sam is following.

Sam does his best to follow anyway; staying close to Barnes as the undergrowth swallows them both.

—

Sam doesn’t know how long they’ve been walking. He has to focus so as not to trip over a root and die of shame. It’s mind numbing in a peaceful way that’s calming until it isn’t.

Something rustles the trees.

Sam turns to look and Barnes is already there, crouched low and defensive.

Without their footsteps the ambient sounds come into focus. The rustling is steady and moving; close. 

Sam loses it a few times, distracted by a distant bird or the unexpectedly loud buzz of insects, but Barnes’ gaze doesn’t waver. His eyes track over the jungle, following the sound as easily as if it could be seen. 

It comes very close; the source can only be just out of sight. The birds go quiet. Barnes sinks lower and ducks his head as though to shield it in a charge.

Sam is acutely aware of sweat tickling his nose. The noise is receding but Barnes hasn’t moved so Sam doesn’t either. The tickling feeling is on Sam’s neck now and he has a horrible moment of complete certainty that it is a spider before realizing it’s rain.

The birds start to talk again, Barnes rises from him crouch and turns to face Sam. 

“Cat,” he says simply. It startles Sam, like he had forgotten the sounds of speech.

“A real one or another dignitary?” 

Barnes smirks. The light has changed entirely whilst they walked. Barnes’ eyes look very blue and it seems should be squinting against the rain or something but he isn’t.

Sam on the other hand is shrinking away from the drops, Barnes cocks his head, “You want to go back?”

“Nah I’m good,” says Sam, swinging his bag around on his hip so he can unzip it, “just let me get a jacket on. You want something?”

He pulls his parka out of the bag and tugs out the corner of a hoodie to show Barnes, it won’t do much good if the rain kicks up but it might help for a bit with the cold. Steve’s got a whole thing about the cold.

Barnes shakes his head, no. Sam shrugs and pushes the hoodie back into the bag, zipping it up awkwardly as he juggles his own jacket, making sure it doesn’t fall into the rapidly thickening mud. He starts to wiggle into the jacket but Barnes makes a weird scoffing noise and stops him. He lifts the strap of the bag and the rifle off of Sam’s shoulder and over his head so he can move.

Sam is grateful but he’s not going to thank the guy until he stops giving him so much You’re-an-Idiot face.

Barnes hands back the stuff with slightly more force than necessary and looks around reorienting himself, “I think we’re near, maybe a K or two west.”

“You’re not following tracks anymore?”

Barnes gets a weird look and his mouth ticks, “Uh, I wasn’t actually following any before.” he admits before adding hastily, “I could if there were any.”

Sam stares the stare of a man betrayed.

Barnes rolls his eyes, “I knew where to go, there’s a stretch where the trees thin out, I’ve walked it before, bigger mammals hang out on the plains and lots of animals go out into the open to die dramatically or whatever.”

“And plenty of them hide away in the jungle to die alone.”

“If the bird is that massive it’s not fucking about in the jungle getting its wings caught in shit for 3-day old mongoose. If it’s here, it’s in the open.”

“I know that!” says Sam, “I just assumed you were finding the open with the blood, I could’ve found a clearing myself.”

Barnes has started walking again, more relaxed than the careful steps of before, “Maybe, or maybe you would’ve gotten eaten by the cat.”

Barnes is practically bouncing along on his god damn tippy toes.

Silently. 

So. Much. Bullshit.

—

Half an hour later the trees thin out and the land flattens beneath their feet. Sam can see more of the grey sky every minute.

They do find Sam’s vulture.

A few of them actually, but one of them is front and center, maybe 200 meters beyond the tree line, feasting on an antelope carcass and looking magnificent whilst doing it. It’s clearly the one Sam has been looking for.

It’s a pretty big bird.

It’s head and wings are all black feathers but the skin of its neck is exposed and pink beneath a spreading sheen of the antelope’s blood. Its whole body is hunched over the corpse and its wings curve in full extension to shield it from the rain. How does it get so big off scraps and mice? There can’t be that many fresh corpses, can there?

Thunder is rumbling and the wind has picked up. Leaves blow off an acacia tree and whip around the vulture, getting stuck in the antelope’s open wound. 

It’s awesome. And super gross. 

Sam doesn’t want to look away and almost drops his camera into the mud, trying to free it from his bag without looking down.

Riley would pretend not believe him without a picture. 

Steve probably would. Sam still wants proof.

He uses the auto-focus and takes the shot. He probably should have turned the flash off but the vulture doesn’t seem to notice.

The light reflects off of Barnes’ arm to his right. Sam glances over.

Barnes is transfixed, his chin is raised slightly like he’s trying to get closer without actually moving. 

He must feel Sam’s eyes on him because he turns to look at Sam and the camera.

“Did you get a picture?” Barnes asks.

Sam shows him the shot on the display screen. Barnes studies it for a moment, “You’re not in it.” 

Sam shrugs, “Yeah that’s not really how bird watching pictures go, you’re not meant to be in it.”

Barnes is unimpressed, “I don’t know when you think you’re getting to your next twitcher meeting Attenborough but I don’t think you need to be worried about standard practises anytime soon, you found your fucking vulture, it’s awesome, get in the picture.”

When did he have time to learn that word.

Barnes reaches out for the camera to take the picture but Sam catches him just in time and shakes his head.

“Like this,” he says, flipping the viewfinder so he can see it from the lens angle. He tugs Barnes into frame by his sleeve, gently so as not to get his arm broken by surprised-cyborg-reflexes. Barnes lets himself be pulled and watches Sam line up the shot. 

It’s not a great picture. Sam is conscious of the possibility that the vulture might fly off suddenly. He rushes and they’re not quite in focus, but they’re both in frame and the vulture is recognizable in the background. Sam still has his hand on Barnes’ elbow and he’s smiling his cheesiest photo-friendly smile. He isn’t sure if he’d call Barnes’ expression a smile but it kind of looks like he’s about to smile. He’ll ask Steve what he thinks later.

—

They stay until the vulture is done with its feast. It’s even more incredible in the air. Sam wants to follow it. Maybe next time.

The sun drops like it was waiting for them to leave and soon they’re walking in total darkness. 

Sam thinks he’s just really coordinated for about 10 minutes before he realizes Barnes has a feather light grip on the elbow of his jacket and is guiding him through the brush.

“It’s later than I planned on being out.” 

Against the darkness, Sam sees the faint silhouette of Barnes nod, “There’s a road just East, the way this place is geared up I’m sure we can get a camera’s attention, they’ll send a jeep.”

Sam hadn’t meant anything like that but it’s probably a good idea. The temperatures dropping quickly now that night has fallen. He thinks the rain has stopped but it’s hard to tell without the light, the canopy might just be shielding them.

“Yeah,” Sam says, “better get home, get warmed up.”

Barnes starts to nod again noncommittally but stops seemingly thinking better of it, “I like this kind of cold, the wind and the- it’s very- alive.”

“Grounding?”

“Yeah,” says Barnes, “easier to – keep my place, keep my head straight.”

Sam nods into the dark, “You could come with me again,” he says, surprising himself a little, “I mean- I don’t know what else is out here but- it looks like we might be here for- for a while.” he can’t quite keep the disappointment out of his voice.

Barnes doesn’t call him on it, “I wouldn’t mind seeing that cat.” he says, hastening to add “I’m not going hurt it- just to look at.”

“Yeah I know,” says Sam, and he does. 

He feels bad for thinking Barnes would test the hammerkop-nest-thing. He doesn’t think he would. 

“That would be cool,” Sam agrees, “you can look at it from a safe distance and I can look at it from an even safer one. Behind you. Really, really far behind you.”

Sam sees the moonlight glint off the whites of Barnes’ teeth, he’s grinning. Sam hasn’t seen him do that before, maybe it’s easier in the dark. 

They reach the road and immediately Sam sees a camera mounted on a street lamp swivel in their direction. Barnes gives it a jaunty salute and sits at the side of the road with no heed of the mud.

The rain hasn’t actually fully stopped but it’s so light it feels like mist on Sam’s face. He can see the impression of droplets, back lit in the yellowy lights.  
Sam chooses to lean against one instead of joining Barnes on the ground.

Without the sun Sam can’t tell which direction leads back to the facility but he picks one and squints his eyes, looking out for their ride on the dim horizon.

Barnes can probably tell the right way from the stars or something but he’s just watching Sam instead. 

“You ever see an albatross?” he asks Sam out of nowhere, “I think- you can, in the Galapagos.” 

“Galapagos is cheating.” Says Sam reflexively.

Barnes gives him a look that Sam probably deserves, but powers on “Ecuador, it’s meant to be- you could probably go, if you needed a break. See an albatross.”

Sam stares at him. Barnes ducks his head.

It’s hard to tell under the yellow light but Barnes might be blushing, “Steve- he could go too, he likes, I think he likes tortoises?” he looks back up, meeting Sam’s eyes, “I’d still be here. I mean, I’m not going to run. I just – I don’t know when I’ll be- I’m not sure he’s going to like this next part.” 

Sam doesn’t think that’s what Barnes is worried he won’t like.

Sam thinks for a moment and measures his words carefully, “No big cats in the Galapagos.” he says at last, “and I’m not sure I want to get all the way to Ecuador and run into their president dressed like a turtle or something. I can only take so much.”

Barnes laughs. For real this time.

Sam grins back, encouraged, but can’t leave it there, “and Steve- Steve doesn’t give a fuck about tortoises. We’ll show him the vulture.”

“He _really_ won’t like the vulture.” 

“He’ll learn.”

Barnes snorts, “Okay, we’ll show him the big bird, if we can find it again.”

“Oh what the master tracker doesn’t think he can-“

Barnes looks away into the night abruptly, surprising Sam into silence.

“Jeep’s here,” he explains, standing.

Sam just nods, grateful that the light atmosphere doesn’t seem to have been broken by the interruption.

He stands up straight and adjusts his various straps, not having thought to put anything down. Barnes gives him another ‘You’re an Idiot’ face but it’s hovering around the edges of the ‘about to smile’ one from before. 

On the horizon, Sam sees a faint white glow that must be the headlights of their ride, just out of sight. 

He had been looking in the right direction after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism, tagging suggestions and type-o/grammar corrections welcomed.


End file.
